What I Did for Love

Chapter 24

Bram arrived late for Georgie’s audition, and Hank Peters’s cool nod indicated he wasn’t happy about it. Bram knew they were all waiting for him to fall back into his old, unreliable habits, but he’d been legitimately delayed by a call from one of the partners at Endeavor. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to explain-he’d spewed out too many bullshit excuses in the past-and he merely offered a short apology. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Although no one said it to his face, they all thought having Georgie read for them today was a waste of time. But he owed her an audition, no matter how much he hated being part of something that, in the end, would devastate her.

“Let’s get to work,” Hank said.

The audition room had bilious green walls, stained brown carpet, some battered metal chairs, and a couple of folding tables. It was located on the top floor of an old building at the rear of the Vortex lot that housed Siracca Productions, Vortex’s independent film subsidiary. Bram took the empty chair between Hank and the female casting director.

With his long face, thinning hair, and glasses, Hank looked more like an Ivy League professor than a Hollywood director, but he was enormously talented, and Bram still couldn’t quite believe they were working together. The casting director nodded at her assistant, who left to escort Georgie in from wherever they’d stashed her.

He hadn’t seen her since the night of the party. Paul had gotten sick afterward-some kind of stomach flu, according to Chaz-and Georgie had driven off to take care of him before Bram had woken up the next morning. Georgie didn’t need the distraction of playing nursemaid right before a major audition, and Bram couldn’t believe Paul hadn’t managed to send her home. Bram had wanted one more chance to talk her out of this.

The casting assistant returned and held the door open. Georgie’s self-confidence was a lot more fragile than she let on. She wouldn’t be horrible, but she wouldn’t be good, either, and he hated the idea of everybody picking over her performance.

A tall, dark-haired actress entered. An actress who wasn’t Georgie. As the casting director asked her what she’d been doing since her last film, Bram leaned closer to Hank. “Where the hell is Georgie?”

Hank regarded him oddly. “You don’t know?”

“We haven’t had a chance to talk. Her father has the flu, and she’s been taking care of him.”

Hank pulled off his glasses and polished them on the hem of his shirt, almost as if he didn’t want to make eye contact. “Georgie changed her mind. She decided the part wasn’t right for her, and she’s not auditioning for us.”

Bram couldn’t take it in. He sat through the audition without hearing a word of it, then excused himself and tried to reach her. But she wasn’t picking up. Neither was Paul or Aaron, and Chaz didn’t know anything more than what Georgie had originally told her. He finally called Laura. She said she’d spoken with Paul only a few hours earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned being sick.

Something was very wrong. He set off for home.

Only three black SUVs were standing guard near the gates. Sunday’s wedding celebration had played big on TMZ and the other online gossip sites, but the craziness of the first two months finally seemed to be fading. It wouldn’t take much, however, to reignite the flames, and if word got out that Georgie had disappeared, all hell was going to break loose.

His cell rang as he pulled up to the garage. It was Aaron. “I have a message from Georgie. She’s said to tell you she’s taken off for some R and R.”

“What the hell? Forget that!”

“I know. I don’t understand it either.”

“Where is she?”

There was a long pause. “I can’t tell you.”

“The hell you can’t!”

But Aaron’s first loyalty was to Georgie, and Bram’s threats didn’t break his resolve. Bram finally hung up on him, then sat in his car dumbfounded. Was she ashamed to face him because she’d gotten cold feet? But Georgie had never been afraid of an audition in her life. None of this made sense.

Their odd conversation from the night of the party replayed in his mind. Could she seriously believe he’d fallen in love with her? He thought about all the mixed signals he’d sent her and snatched up his cell again. She didn’t answer, so he was forced to leave a message.

“Okay, Georgie, I get it. You were serious the other night. But I swear to God, I am not in love with you, so stop worrying. It’s total crap. Think about it. Have you ever known me to care about anybody other than myself? Why would I start now? Especially with you. Damn it, if I’d known you were going to freak out like this, I’d have kept my mouth shut about the friendship thing. Friendship. That’s all it is. I promise. So stop making up crap and call me back.”

But she didn’t call, and by the next morning, something more insidious had occurred to him. Georgie wanted a baby, and right now she couldn’t have one without him. What if this was blackmail? Her way of manipulating him? The fact that she might even be thinking of doing something so odious made him furious. He called her voice mail and let her have it. Since he didn’t mince words, he wasn’t exactly surprised when she didn’t return his call.

The white stucco private villa Georgie had rented sat high above the Sea of Cortez just outside Cabo San Lucas. It had two bedrooms, a scallop-shaped Jacuzzi, and a sliding glass wall opening onto a shady patio. Since Georgie couldn’t fly commercial to Mexico, she’d used a private charter service.

Every morning for a week, she donned an oversize T-shirt and a pair of baggy capris, then slipped on big sunglasses and a wide straw hat to walk for miles unrecognized along the beach. In the afternoons, she edited film and tried to make peace with her sadness.

Bram was furious with her for disappearing, and his telephone messages had ripped out her heart.

I swear to God, I am not in love with you…Friendship. That’s all it is. I promise.

As for his second message about blackmailing him to have a baby…She deleted that halfway through.

Her father knew where she was. She’d finally told him the truth about Las Vegas and a little bit about why she’d needed to get away. Naturally, he’d tried to blame Bram, but she wouldn’t let him, and she made him promise not to contact him. “Just give me some time, Dad, okay?” He’d reluctantly agreed.

A day later her father had called with a piece of news that left her reeling. “I did some investigating. Bram hasn’t touched a penny of the money you were supposed to be paying him. It turns out, he doesn’t need it.”

“Of course, he does. Everybody knows he blew through all his Skip and Scooter money.”

“‘Blow’ pretty much describes it. But when he finally got clean and sober, he downscaled his lifestyle and started investing his residuals. He’s done shockingly well for himself. He even paid off the mortgage on his house.”

It was ironic. The only thing Bram hadn’t deceived her about was his feelings for her. Friendship. And there it stopped.

She found herself staring at nothing, or picking up a book and reading the same sentence over and over. But she didn’t cry as she had with Lance. This time, her sadness ran too deep for tears. The only activity that interested her involved taking a camera down to one of the luxury resorts and interviewing the maids. Since she couldn’t endure that kind of public exposure, she set up her camera on the shady white stone patio and interviewed herself.

“Tell me, Georgie. Have you always been a loser in love?”

“More or less. How about yourself?”

“More or less. And why do you think that is?”

“A pathetic need to be loved?”

“And you’re blaming that on…what? Your childhood relationship with your father?”

“Let’s.”

“So it’s ultimately your father’s fault you fell in love with Bram Shepard?”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s my fault. I knew falling in love with him was impossible, but I had to go and do it anyway.”

“You gave up your audition and a chance to play Helene.”

“How about that. What a woman will do for love, right?”

“Stupid.”

“What was I supposed to do? Work with him every day, then go home with him at night?”

“What you should do is make your career your first priority.”

“I don’t care about my career right now. I haven’t even hired a new agent. I only care about…”

“Being miserable?”

“A few months and I’ll be over him.”

“Do you really believe that?”

No, she didn’t believe it. She loved Bram in a clear-eyed way she’d never loved her ex-husband, no rose-colored glasses or mindless giddiness, no Cinderella fantasies or false certainty that he’d put her life in order. What she felt for Bram was messy, honest, and soul-deep. He felt like…part of her, the best and the worst. Like someone she wanted to struggle through life with; share triumphs and catastrophes; share holidays, birthdays, every days.

“Excellent,” her interviewer said. “I’ve finally made you cry. Just like Barbara Walters.”

Georgie turned off the camera and buried her face in her hands.

Georgie had been gone almost two weeks, and Aaron was Bram’s only source of information. Georgie’s P.A. had taken it upon himself to leak a series of fictitious stories to the tabs. He’d detailed Georgie’s decision to take a vacation while Bram worked and also served up long descriptions of romantic phone calls between the newlyweds. Aaron’s fabrications kept the press at bay, so Bram didn’t correct them.

Tree House continued to move forward without any major snarls, even though they still hadn’t finished casting. He should have been on top of the world, but he mainly wanted to look up his old drug dealer. He buried himself in work instead, to keep the devils at bay.

Chaz was waiting for him on Monday night when he got home from the studio, a new supply of cookbooks spread out on the kitchen table instead of the GED workbooks she still hadn’t opened. She jumped up as he appeared. “I’ll make a sandwich for you. A good one, with whole grain bread, turkey, and guacamole. I’ll bet all you’ve eaten today is junk.”

“I don’t want anything, and I told you not to wait up for me.”

She bustled over to the refrigerator. “It isn’t even midnight.”

Long experience had taught him the futility of arguing with Chaz about food, so even though all he wanted to do was sleep, he hung around and pretended to sift through some mail on the counter while she pulled containers from the refrigerator and filled him in on her life. “Aaron’s being a pain. He and Becky split up-they haven’t even been together three weeks. He said they’re too much alike. But that should be a good thing, right?”

“Not always.” Bram gazed blindly at a party invitation, then tossed it in the trash. He and Georgie were more alike than they were different, although it had taken him a while to figure that out.

Chaz slapped a container on the counter so hard the lip popped off. “Aaron knows where Georgie is.”

“Yeah, I know he does. So does her father.”

“You should make them tell you.”

“Why? I’m not running after her.” Besides, Bram already knew she’d gone to Cabo, thanks to a phone conversation with Trev, who was in Australia shooting his new film. Bram had thought about flying to Mexico and dragging her back, but she’d stung his pride. Bottom line-she was the one who’d left, and it was up to her to come back and make things right.

Chaz put a loaf of bread on the cutting board and began slicing it, her knife coming down with hard thwacks. “I know why you guys got married.”

He looked up.

She flipped the lid on a container of guacamole. “You should have been honest about what happened in Vegas and gotten the stupid marriage annulled or whatever. Like Britney Spears did that first time she got married.”

“How do you know what happened?”

“I overheard you and Georgie talking about it.”

“You overheard with your ear smashed against a keyhole. If you ever say anything to anybody…”

She slammed the cupboard door shut. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some big asshole blabbermouth?”

Now he had two pissed-off females in his life, but getting back in Chaz’s good graces was relatively easy. “No, I don’t think that. Sorry.”

She chewed over his apology but eventually decided to accept it, as he’d known she would. He sat down in front of the food she’d put out. He didn’t want to end his phony marriage yet. It held too many advantages-starting with sex, which was so great he couldn’t imagine giving it up yet. Thanks to Georgie, he was back in the game, and he intended to stay there. He wanted Tree House to be the first in a string of great films, and somehow she’d become an intricate part of making that happen.

Chaz set his sandwich in front of him. “I still can’t believe she didn’t audition. She goes to all that work and then blows it off. You wouldn’t believe the way she made Aaron run around to get her a special outfit. Then she kept making me check out different hairstyles and makeup. She even made me tape her stupid audition. Then she turns chicken and runs away.”

He set down his sandwich. “You taped her audition?”

“You know how she is. She tapes everything. I probably shouldn’t say this, but if she ever made any sex tapes of you, I seriously think you should-”

“Is the tape still around?”

“I don’t know. I guess. Probably in her office.”

He started to get up, then sat back in his chair. Screw it. He knew exactly what he’d see.

But before he went to bed that night, his curiosity got the best of him, and he searched her office until he found what he was looking for.

They had their first tussle over the check. “Give it to me,” Laura said, genuinely surprised to see Paul grab the check before she could reach for it. They’d dined together more times than she could count, and she always picked up the check. “This is a business dinner. The client never pays.”

“It was a business dinner for the first hour,” Paul said. “After that, I’m not so sure.”

She fumbled for her napkin. It was true that tonight had been different. They’d never talked about their high school embarrassments before, or their mutual love of music and baseball. And he’d certainly never insisted on picking her up at her new condo. All evening, she’d been doing her best to keep things professional, but he kept sabotaging her. Something had happened. Something she needed to make un-happen as quickly as possible.

She held out her hand for the bill. “Paul, I insist. This is a well-deserved celebration. You’ve only been my client for six weeks, and you’ve landed a great part.” He’d been cast in a quirky new HBO series about a group of Vietnam, Gulf, and Iraqi War veterans who spent their weekends as Civil War reenactors.

He set his palm over the leather folder that contained the check. “I’ll give this to you. But only if next weekend’s on me.”

Had he just asked her out? She was too old for games. “Did you just ask me out?”

He tilted his head, a vaguely amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m not thin.”

“Ahh.”

“Or blond, or elegant, or divorced from a former high-ranking studio executive. I have no time for a personal trainer, I don’t wear clothes well, and getting my hair done bores the hell out of me.” She crossed her legs. “But most of all, I’m your agent, and I’m planning to make a lot of money off your career.”

“So will you go out with me next weekend anyway?”

“No!”

“Too bad.” The waiter appeared, and Paul passed over his credit card. A director they both knew stopped at their table to chat, and by the time the valet had delivered Paul’s car, Laura assumed the subject was behind them. Paul quickly proved her wrong.

“The L.A. Chamber Orchestra is playing at Royce Hall next weekend,” he said as they drove off from the restaurant. “I think we should go. Unless you’d rather take in a Dodgers game.”

Two of her favorite activities. “I don’t get this. You’re the consummate professional. You know I can’t date a client, especially such an important client.”

“I like that ‘important’ part.”

“I mean it. You’re going to have a great career, and I want to negotiate every phase of it.”

He turned north onto Beverly Glen Boulevard. “If you weren’t my agent, would you date me?”

In a New York minute. “Probably not. We’re too different.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you’re cool and logical. You like order. How long has it been since you’ve forgotten to pay your cable bill or splashed wine on your clothes?” She pointed toward the small red splotch on the skirt of her silk shift. At the same time she covered up a recent snag. She wanted to make her point without looking like a total slob.

“That’s one of the things I like about you,” he said. “You get so wrapped up in a conversation you forget to pay attention to what you’re doing. You’re a good listener, Laura.”

And so was he. The intent way he’d locked in on her tonight made her feel like the most fascinating woman on earth. “I don’t get this,” she said. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Not all that sudden. You were my date for the wedding party, remember?”

“That was business.”

“Was it?”

“I thought it was.”

“You thought wrong,” he said. “That day you cornered me, you shook me loose from my moorings. You made me open my eyes about Georgie, and nothing’s been the same since.” The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m fairly tightly wound. You’re a very relaxing woman, Laura Moody. You unwind me. Oh, and I also like your body.”

Laura burst out laughing. Where had all this charm come from? Wasn’t it enough that he was intelligent, great-looking, and much nicer than she’d ever imagined? “You’re so full of it.”

He grinned and turned onto a narrow side street that ran above the Stone Canyon Reservoir. “You gave me my daughter back. You gave me a new career. I’m almost afraid to say it, but for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m happy.”

The interior of his Lexus was suddenly too small. It grew even more intimate as he swung onto a dark, unpaved road, pulled the car into the scrub, and lowered the windows. She sat up straighter as he killed the engine. “Any reason you’re stopping here?”

“I’m hoping we can make out.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Look at it from my viewpoint. I’ve been wanting to touch you all evening. I’d definitely prefer the comfort of a nice couch, but I can hardly expect you to invite me in if you won’t even agree to a date. So I’m improvising.”

“Paul, I’m your agent! Call me crazy, but I have a policy of not making out with my clients.”

“I understand. If I were you, I’d have the same policy. Let’s do it anyway. Just to see what happens.”

She knew what would happen. Oh, God, did she ever. His sexual magnetism had become more difficult to ignore every time they were together, but she had no intention of screwing up her already screwed-up career. “Let’s not.”

The automatic headlights, which had been illuminating a swath of chaparral and scrub oak, switched off, cocooning them in the soft, warm darkness. “Here’s the thing.” He unsnapped his seat belt. “I’ve let logic rule my life for years, and frankly, it hasn’t worked out that well. But I’m an actor now, which officially makes me a maniac, so I’m going to start doing what I want. And what I want”-he leaned into her and pressed his lips over hers-“what I want is this…”

All she had to do was turn away. Instead, she let herself enjoy his taste…his scent…The heady, intoxicating rush. She wanted more.

But her days of sacrificing her best interests for a quick thrill were long over. She sank her hands into his hair, kissed him deeply, thoroughly, then pulled away. “That was fun. Don’t do it again.”

Paul hadn’t really expected anything else. But he’d hoped. He stroked her cheek with his knuckle. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her he was falling in love with her, so he didn’t intend to. He could hardly believe it himself. At the age of fifty-two, he was finally falling in love again, and with a woman he’d known for years. But even in the days she’d let him bully her, he’d been physically attracted.

He’d always liked women with rounded corners and soft edges. With fluffy hair and eyes the color of Armagnac. Smart, independent women who knew how to make their own way in the world, who enjoyed food, and were more interested in talking to the person in front of them than checking their cells. The fact that he hadn’t let himself get close to anyone with those qualities only proved how determined he’d been to keep himself safe from all the messy emotions that had nearly destroyed him.

But even though he’d been physically attracted to Laura, he hadn’t respected her, not until the day she’d stood up to him. As he’d witnessed her integrity, her caring, she’d gotten under his skin, and she’d sealed the deal when she’d finally made him remember he was an actor. She’d known what he needed before he knew it himself.

These past weeks he felt reborn, sometimes as wobbly legged as a newborn colt, other times filled with a sense of rightness. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to stay lost for so long. Only his concern for Georgie shadowed his perfect contentment. That and the nagging worry he wouldn’t be able to get past the very sensible barriers Laura would insist on maintaining between them.

But he had a game plan, and tonight he’d made his first move by letting her know that more than business lay between them. He intended to take it slow from here so she had plenty of time to adjust to the idea that they belonged together. There’d be no sudden moves. No baring of the soul. Just a patient, deliberate pursuit.

Then her purse slipped from her lap, and as she bent over to retrieve it, she bumped her forehead against the glove compartment, and his plan dissolved. “Laura, I’m falling in love with you.”

He was so stunned to hear himself say it aloud that her burst of laughter barely registered. “I know it’s crazy,” he said, “and I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

Her laughter grew brighter. “I never knew you were such a player. You don’t really think I’m going to fall for a line like that.” Still laughing, she rubbed her forehead and gazed into his eyes. She took her time, paying attention as she always did. Tilting her head. Taking him in. Gradually her laughter faded, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Then she did something that truly shocked him. She read his mind. “My God,” she said. “You’re serious.”

He nodded, unable to speak. Long seconds ticked by. He gave her the time she needed. Her bra strap slipped off her shoulder. She blinked.

“I’m not in love with you,” she said. “How could I be? I’m only getting to know you.” She pinned him with those brandy eyes. “But ohmygod, am I ever in lust, and I swear to God, if this doesn’t work out, and you even think about firing me”-she unsnapped her seat belt-“I will blackball you with every casting agent in town. Is that understood?”

“Understood,” he said, just before she attacked.

It was glorious. She cupped his jaw in both her hands and let their mouths play. As she offered him the sweet tip of her tongue, a wash of tenderness made his arousal all the more powerful. He slid far enough out from beneath the steering wheel for her to slip a knee over his thigh. Her flyaway hair brushed his cheek. Their kiss grew more urgent. He had to touch her, feel her. He curled his palms around her sides. Beneath the thin silk of her dress, her flesh was a poem of sensuality.

“I love you,” he whispered, no longer caring about his game plan.

“You’re a lunatic.”

“And you’re a delight.”

He hadn’t done anything like this in a car since he was seventeen, and it was no more comfortable. He fumbled for her zipper and managed not to make a muddle of lowering it. His hands slid inside her dress. He touched her bra.

“This is insane.” She groaned against his mouth as he peeled her bra down far enough to suckle her. Her fingers plowed through his hair, and her head fell back.

The car had become their enemy. She pulled at his shirt, scratching him with her ring. Somehow he lifted her far enough so he could slide beneath her into the passenger seat, but not before he caught an elbow in the jaw and her knee jabbed his side. Finally, she straddled him. With their mouths still joined, he reached under her skirt…

Their caresses grew hotter. Her hand, bawdy and wise…Clothes in the way. Another lush kiss, and then he was inside her. Loving her. Filling her. Pleasuring her. Claiming her as his own. The sounds of their groans, their breath, their melding bodies, rushed in his ears. She clutched him. Went rigid. They hung…suspended…flying…dissolving.

Afterward he stepped out of the car to decompress and surreptitiously eased a kink from his back. She joined him a moment later.

“That,” she said matter-of-factly, “was crazy-ridiculous. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

He gazed up at the stars. “Perfect. Then we can look forward to our first time.”

Her toughness slipped away, leaving concern behind. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” He put his arm around her. “And I’m just as shocked as you.”

“Amazing. You’re an amazing man, Paul York. I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.”

He turned his lips into her soft hair. “Is it still only lust for you?”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Give me a couple of months to get back to you on that.”

Georgie couldn’t find her moorings. She lay on a teak chaise as the late-afternoon sun slanted over the white stone patio. It was Tuesday afternoon, exactly sixteen days since she’d arrived in Mexico. She would force herself to go back to L.A. before the end of the week instead of staying here forever as she wanted to. Stay here until she figured out what new form her life should take. Unless she was in front of the computer she’d bought a few days ago, she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She hurt too much.

A pair of geckos scurried into the shade. Boats bobbed in the distance, their windshields flashing like strobes in the sun. It was too hot for her to lie out any longer, but she didn’t move. Last night she’d dreamed she was a bride. She’d stood by a window in her gown, wisps of white ribbon in her hair, and watched Bram approach through a gossamer lace curtain.

The gate creaked on its hinges. She looked up, and there he was, sauntering onto her patio as if she’d conjured him, but the romantic bridegroom of her dream now wore gunmetal gray aviators and a surly expression. She hated the way her stomach dipped. He was lean, tall, and healthy, the years of dissipation long behind him. Her self-absorbed, self-destructive bad boy had stopped being a bad boy years ago, only no one had noticed. The constriction in her throat made words impossible.

Through the lenses of his sunglasses, he took her in from her sweat-damp hair to her purple bikini bottom and then to her bare breasts. The patio was private and she hadn’t expected a visitor, especially this visitor, so here she was, topless when she least wanted to be.

“Enjoying your vacation?” The soft rumble of his voice drifted over her skin like the leading edge of a storm.

She was an actress, the cameras had started to roll, and she found her voice. “Look around. What’s not to love?”

He wandered toward her. “You should have talked to me before you ran out.”

“We don’t have that kind of marriage.” Her arm felt rubbery as she reached for her yellow-and-purple-striped cover-up.

He snatched it from her hand and flicked it across the patio, where it landed on a small table. “Don’t bother getting dressed.”

“Smooth.” She walked over to fetch it, counting slowly under her breath so she didn’t rush, letting her hips sway in the tiny purple bikini bottom-maybe in a last-ditch effort to make him fall in love with her? But he wouldn’t. Bram didn’t fall in love, not because he was as self-centered as he believed, but because he didn’t know how.

She slipped on the cover-up and shook out her hair. “This is a wasted trip. I’m going back to L.A. soon.”

“So I hear from Trev.” His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “I talked to him in Australia a couple of days ago, but I got the full story from the tabs. According to Flash, we’re both moving into his house while he’s on location so we can enjoy summer at the beach.”

“My once-retiring P.A. has turned into quite the media mouthpiece.”

“At least somebody’s watching out for you. What’s going on, Georgie?”

She tried to pull it together. “I’m moving into Trevor’s house. You’re not. It’s a good solution.”

“A solution to what?” He jerked off his sunglasses. “I don’t understand that part-why this happened all of a sudden-so maybe you’d better explain it.”

He was so cold, so angry. “Our future,” she said. “The next phase. Don’t you think it’s time we get on with our lives? Everybody knows you’re working, so it won’t seem strange for me to spend the summer in Malibu. Aaron can keep planting his stories if that’s what you want. You can even show up for a couple of very public beach walks. It’ll be fine.” It wouldn’t be fine at all. Any contact she had with him from now on would only prolong the agony.

“This isn’t how we decided we’d handle it.” He jammed the stems of his sunglasses into the neck of his T-shirt. “We have an agreement. One year. I’m holding you to it, every second.”

He’d insisted on six months, not a year, but she let that go. “You’re not paying attention.” Somehow she pulled off Scooter’s innocent act. “You’re working. I’m at the beach. A couple of public appearances. No one will suspect a thing.”

“You need to be at the house. My house. And I seem to have missed your explanation about why you’re not there.”

“Because it’s long past time I started setting a new course for my life. The beach will be a great place for me to take my first steps.”

The shadows of an African tulip tree cut across his face as he moved closer. “Your present life course is just fine.”

She played the mildly exasperated female even as her heart broke. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. You men are all alike.” She picked up her towel and clutched it to her chest like a child’s lovey. “I’m going to take a shower while you cool down.”

But just as she turned to walk back into the house, he stopped her cold.

“I saw your audition tape.”

Bram watched Georgie’s expression change from confusion to puzzled understanding. He wanted to hold her, shake her, make her tell him the truth.

Her fingers grew slack on the towel. “Are you talking about the tape Chaz recorded for me?”

“It was great,” he said slowly. “You were great.”

She stared at him with her big green eyes.

“You nailed it, just like you promised,” he said. “People underestimate me as an actor. It never occurred to me that I was doing the same to you. We’ve all done it.”

“I know.”

Her straightforward response unnerved him. He hadn’t known, and when he’d seen the tape, he’d felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

Last night he’d sat in his darkened bedroom and watched it. As he hit the play button, the blank wall in Georgie’s office had come into focus, and he heard Chaz’s voice off camera. “I’ve got things to do. I don’t have time for this crap.”

Georgie stepping into the frame. Her hair was severely parted, and she wore a minimum of makeup: light foundation, no mascara, the barest hint of eyebrow pencil, and a shockingly deep scarlet mouth that couldn’t have been more wrong for Helene. The camera caught her from the waist up: an austere black suit jacket, a white shell, and a set of intricately twisted black beads.

“I mean it,” Chaz said. “I need to start dinner.”

Georgie pierced Chaz’s bluster with Helene’s icy imperiousness instead of her normal friendly puppy-dog manner. “You’ll do as I say.”

Chaz muttered something the mike didn’t catch and stayed where she was. Georgie’s breasts rose ever so slightly under the suit jacket, and then a smile-a fucking ice-pick smile-curled over the bottom of her face and made that scarlet mouth seem absolutely right.

You think you can embarrass me, Danny? I don’t embarrass. Embarrassment is for losers. And a loser is what you are, not me. You’re a zero. A nothing. We all knew it, even when you were a kid.

Her voice was low, deathly quiet, and completely composed. Unlike the other actresses they’d auditioned, she didn’t emote. No teeth gnawing or scenery rattling. Everything underplayed.

You don’t have a friend left in this town, but you still think you’ve gotten the best of me…

The words poured out of her, cold fury prowling behind her bloodred smile, perfectly capturing Helene’s selfishness, her guile, her intelligence, and her utter conviction that she deserved whatever she could grab. He sat spellbound until finally, with that smile frozen like black ice on her lips, she came to the end.

Remember how you used to make fun of me when we were in school? How hard you laughed? Well, who’s laughing now, funny man? Who’s laughing now?

The camera stayed on her, but she didn’t move. She simply waited, every cell of her body discharging quiet rage, intractable pride, and dogged determination. The camera wobbled, and he heard Chaz’s voice. “Holy shit, Georgie, that was-”

The picture went dark.

He looked at Georgie now, standing across from him on the whitewashed patio, her hair caught up in a sweaty, unkempt knot, her face scrubbed free of makeup, a beach towel dangling at her side, and for a moment he thought he saw Helene’s calculating eyes looking back at him-resolute, cynical, astute. He’d fix that. “I woke Hank up this morning and made him look at the tape before he even had coffee.”

“Did you now?”

“He was blown away. Just like me. No other actress we’ve seen has delivered what you did-the complexity, that dark humor.”

“I’m a comedian. It’s what I do.”

“Your performance was chilling.”

“Thank you.”

Her reserve was starting to unnerve him. He expected her to crow and say she’d told him so. When she didn’t, he tried again. “You blasted Scooter Brown into oblivion.”

“That was my intention.”

She still didn’t seem to have registered his message, so he spelled it out. “The part’s yours.”

Instead of throwing herself in his arms, she turned away. “I need to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable while I get dressed.”